Dares (and the Daring Darers who Dare them)
by badbiscuit
Summary: Ah the obligatory "true or dare" fic! Every fandom needs one, don't they? (Answer: Yes) So for our story, I've decided to pit the Dark Brotherhood against the Thieves Guild in an epic game of "Truth or Dare." How fun!
1. Prologue

"Well! Look who decided to drop in!" Brynjolf called as six cloaked figures made their way into the flagon.

"Hello!" A young girl's voice answered.

"Mind if we join you this evening?" Astrid asked as she and several more of her "family" members entered the damp, musty bar. Following her were a small girl child, a Redgaurd, a tall, burly looking Nord, and an Imperial in jester's garb. They were not unknown to the members of the thieves' guild; on the contrary, one could almost call them friends.

Mercer scoffed at the congregation, but his displeasure was not shared by the rest of the flagon's occupants.

"Not at all, we're glad to have you. Pull up a seat. Have a drink." Delvin offered.

"So what brings you to Riften? Business or pleasure?" Mercer growled.

"What's the difference?" Astrid laughed.

"Just a typical family outing, then?" said Mercer, "I only ask because usually when your people drop in on someone, they tend to end up dead."

"Well, we couldn't come to Riften and not stop for a drink with our favorite rival faction," said Astrid as she received a welcoming hug from Sapphire. "I hope we aren't interrupting."

"No, no! You're more than welcome. We were just thinking about what to do this fine evening. You turned just in time to save us from ourselves," said Brynjolf.

"Why? What did you have planned?" Babette asked.

"Nothing a sweet little lass like you should get mixed up in," Brynjolf said with a wink. Babette grinned wickedly, revealing her pointed fangs.

"Oh I don't know. You're making it sound exactly like the kind of activity I would want to get mixed up in."

"Well, if you must know, Delvin and I were thinking of having a little game of truth or dare to pass the time."

"Oh I love 'truth or dare'!" Babette gushed, "I want to play!"

"Cicero too, Cicero too!" Cicero cried, leaping into the air with each assertion.

"Truth or dare is a children's game. I say we cut out the 'truth' part and just stick with 'dares'. More exciting that way," said Tonilia.

Suddenly Mercer perked up. "Well if the Brotherhood is going to get involved with this, I say we raise the steaks a bit. 100 gold buy in, winner takes all."

"Hmm, that does sound fun. What do you think, Brothers?" Astrid said as Babette gave their male companions a pleading look.

"If Astrid's playing, I'm in." Arnbjorn said quickly, and Astrid smiled at him.

"First things first. We need to establish some ground rules. Nobody gets killed." He glanced meaningfully at Astrid, "No disrespect, but it's bad for business. Second, don't leave Riften. Take too long, otherwise." The group nodded compliantly. "Tonilia will watch the pot, so no need to worry about that," Brynjolf snorted but Mercer ignored him, "Oh and no lying about the dares either. If you have to leave the flagon, someone has to keep an eye on you. Alright? Anyone has any objections they can keep them to themselves."

"Anyone got dice we could use?" Tonilia asked the room, "Dice that aren't loaded or enchanted I mean," she added when she saw both Delvin and Brynjolf's trick dice hit the table. Finally Vex slapped a patent leather purse on the table.

"Fine. Just nobody lose them okay? Real ivory, damn things are worth a fortune,"

Delvin reached for the purse but Brynjolf stopped him.

"Wait! A toast first, to a fair game and good luck to all!" The room cheered, "Now let's start this damn thing!"


	2. Chapter Two (Delvin dares Astrid)

Delvin practically forced the dice into Astrid's hand. "As our guest and a lady, it's only proper," he said with a grin. Babette rolled her eyes.

"Oh I couldn't. You roll. The house always gets the first move, does it not?" said Astrid.

"Alright then, let see…nine? Ain't that your number?"

"Imagine that." Astrid muttered, "What would you have me do?"

Delvin grinned wickedly. "How bout- you remove the clothes of another player, but ah, you can't use yer hands?" Arnbjorn growled under his breath, but Astrid placed a comforting hand on his chest to quiet him.

"I suppose I could be inclined to accept. Just who will I be servicing?"

"I wouldn't mind volunteering myself for the honor."

"No! Never!" Arnbjorn roared.

"Wasn't asking you, was I?"

"But that's my wife you're talking to!"

"Eh, Astrid. You never told me you was married. When did that happen?" Delvin said in an oddly strained tone.

"After you left," she said coldly. Delvin cleared his throat nervously.

"Well. I suppose your husband won't be trusting his wife with such a risqué dare then?"

Arnbjorn slammed his hand on the table, making those around him jump, "I trust my wife. I trust her absolutely."

"Then what's the worry?"

"Arnbjorn, Arnbjorn, it's alright," Astrid crooned, "I accept the dare. And you volunteer yourself?"

"Of course," said Delvin eagerly.

"Kneel," She commanded. Delvin did as he was told. She then walked over to the nearest candle mount and pulled a taper from it.

"What are you doing with that?" Delvin asked as she approached him once again.

"Don't turn around. Face forward, that's right," and with that, she tipped the molten wax down the back of Delvin's collar.

"Ow! Ah, THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMAN!?" He yelled as he ripped his shirt from his body.

"And as you can see, I have successfully, removed an article of clothing without laying a finger on him." Astrid explained.

"If you think you're going to be pulling yer little candle trick in my pants you've got another thing coming. Dare's over! You win. I surrender," said Delvin as he attempted to rack the hardened wax from his back.

"How many points does she get?" asked Tonilia smugly.

"As many points for each hair she ripped out of me back. Or, she can have six points. Crazy bitch."

Astrid smiled at her husband and then blew out her candle. Pouring candle wax down your ex's back while your husband watched. That one was new, even for her.


	3. Chapter Three (Astrid dares Arnbjorn)

"Astrid, dear, it's your turn next since you were the one who was dared," said Tonilia as she collected the dice and passed them around to the assassin. Astrid cupped them in both hands and rattled them around before sending them flying onto the table. One bounced off her tankard and was about to go sailing off into the air when she caught it in one hand. She flipped it discreetly before placing it beside its mate.

"Two fives. Who might that be?" said Astrid. There was a brief moment of silence, and then Arnbjorn raised his hand slightly. Astrid laughed softly, "Well, imagine that. It must be my lucky night."

"Imagine that," Delvin muttered under his breath, but if Astrid heard, she chose to ignore him.

"Darling, come here," Astrid beckoned to her husband, "remember that guard we met by the fishery earlier? The one who was so very rude to us?"

"Think he needs to be punished?"

"Hey! Hey! What did I say about killing people," Mercer interrupted. Astrid merely waved his objections away with a flick of her hand, her eyes never wavering from Arnbjorn.

"Of course, of course. We wouldn't want to break the rules, would we husband?"

"Never," he agreed.

Astrid let him by the hand until they reached the marketplace balcony. For a city with such a rough reputation, Riften was awfully peaceful this evening, though Astrid. Though of course, the fact that most of the city's riff raff was currently occupied with other, less nefarious amusements might have something to do with that. Astrid leaned over the railing, staring at the moon's reflection over the murky waters.

"A fishery guard huh?" Arnbjorn said as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"You still remember him?"

"How could I forget? He was our first contract together." He kissed the back of her head, then rested his own against it. "So, you got a real dare for me?"

"I do, in fact. I'm just not sure you'll accept," said Astrid coyly.

Arnbjorn laughed. "Try me."

"I do wonder though. You say I'm your wife, I say you are my husband, and that means something to me. But would you actually marry me, given the chance?"

Arnbjorn's blood froze. "Are you daring me to marry you?"

"I didn't say that. I just asked if you would."

"But why? If you're happy with the way things are now-"

"So you wouldn't?"

"No I- Why bother going through the formalities, in some temple of a god we don't even worship?"

"You're saying it would be pointless? Marrying me?"

"Not like that. Everything is fine the way it is. Isn't it?"

Astrid smiled, "Of course it is my love, of course it is." She untangled from him and started walking towards the guild's entrance. "Let's go back, darling. They're waiting on us." Arnbjorn leapt after her.

"What about my dare?"

"Zero points."

"What? You didn't even dare me!"

"I guess I didn't," she said with her back still to him. Was she upset? Astrid was such a mystery to him. He could spend a thousand lifetimes with her and never come close to unraveling her enigma. And suddenly, he understood.

"Astrid! I dare you to marry me. At the temple of Mara, right now." Astrid stopped dead in her tracks and turned around to face him, a look of real joy spreading across her face.

"I accept."


	4. Chapter Four: (Arnbjorn dares Delvin)

Arnbjorn was still grinning by the time the two of them rejoined their companions in the Flagon. Astrid had already reassumed her aloof demeanor but for once Arnbjorn knew exactly what she was thinking. And it made him feel ecstatic. He sat down next to his wife at the table, _his wife_, and picked up the dice as if nothing at all had changed.

Arnbjorn grabbed the dice and gave them a good shake before dropping them into the palm of his hand. "Twelve. So that means one."

"Brilliant. Bloody Brilliant," Delvin muttered, as he drained his cup.

"You have to remove someone else's clothes. But you can't use your hands," he said smugly. Delvin sighed. What goes around comes around.

"Suppose I deserve it, eh? I accept. I accept. Say, Vex? How'd you like-"

"No. Never. Don't even think about it."

"Aww come on! I'd be a gentleman about it!"

"Over. Your. Dead. Body." She hissed.

"Cicero volunteers!" A shrill voice called from across the table. The room fell silent as everyone turned towards the jester in shock. The skinny redhead burst into wild laughter.

"Yeah, thanks but, I may have to, uh, respectfully decline…Sapphire? Any chance I could ask a favor?"

"Not even a little bit. I'm not evening playing."

"Tonilia?" His voice sounded more than a little bit desperate.

"I'm not playing either, remember?Just watching the pot." She said quickly. Babette ducked behind Nazir. She didn't think she'd really be considered, but she certainly wasn't going to take any chances.

"Astrid?—ah just kidding…" He added hastily, catching a terrifying look from Arnbjorn. Cicero cackled with glee. "Bryn? I don't mind if-"

"No!"

"Thought I'd ask." Delvin glanced around the table nervously. "Alright, alright," he turned towards Cicero, "You asked for it." He stood up and approached the giggling jester. "Come on then, kneel." Still, shaking with mirth, Cicero obligingly slid to the floor.

Delvin started with the ties on the back of Cicero's motley. Working the garment off the strange little man's shoulders was going to take some real skill, which, as luck would have it, Delvin just happened to have in droves.

"That tickles!" Cicero screamed. Delvin ignored him and continued loosening the jester's top. The crowd laughed and cheered.

"Have you done this before, lad?" Brynjolf teased. Delvin let Cicero's motley drop from his mouth.

"I thought this were 'dares' not 'truth'?" He grumbled as he returned to yanking Cicero's sleeve from his arm. The task was going surprisingly well. In a matter of seconds Cicero had been relieved of both sleeves, shoes, and gloves, though his shirt still hung floppily around his neck.

Tonilia screamed with laughter. "Divines, maybe I should have accepted."

"I'd be more than willing to switch partners." Delvin muttered, spitting out a clump of wet velvet.

"Why stop you while you're ahead?" Tonilia smirked. Delvin made a face at her, before returning to Cicero.

Delvin was faced with a dilemma. The Cicero's pants would be easy to remove, but only if was lying on his back with Delvin on top of him. This wasn't a sight Delvin necessarily wanted to treat his audience to, but a stunt like that could buy him a few more points or at least, a few more pints.

"On the ground man. Only way." Cicero threw himself on the ground, limps splayed in all directions.

"Dibella's shinny golden ass- if that's how you want it then…." Delvin knelt down and tried to tug the Jester's shirt off. But Cicero was literally bucking with mirth.

"Ow! Fuck! Stop kicking me, will ya?"Delvin snapped as Cicero's knee slammed into his face. Cicero ignored him and continued writhing around on the floor. Delvin checked his nose for blood. There was none as of yet, but Cicero was still thrashing around like a fish on land, screaming with laughter.

"Alright I've had enough of this. Nutter's gonna put me eye out."

Arnbjorn was not impressed. "Four points," he grumbled.

"Four points! I just stripped a man! With my mouth!"

"Huh. You barely got his shirt off—Oh alright fine. Six points. Take 'em or leave 'em."

Cicero nodded. Delvin continued, "Alright then. He's tired with Astrid and – eh, you never told us how many points ol' breadry- I mean your husband, earned."

Astrid rolled her eyes at the jab, "Nine points."

"Nine! Woman you poured candle wax down my back!"

"Fine. Seven."

"So I guess I'm winning," Arnbjorn said proudly.

"For now," added Brynjolf and a few others nodded.

"Cicero's turn next?" the little jester asked when he finally caught his breath.

"No…why don't, why don't you take a few minutes to calm down. Collect yourself," said Tomila suggested gently.

"Maybe put your clothes back on," Astrid added.


	5. Chapter 5 (Babette dares Mercer)

"My turn to roll the dice!" Babette exclaimed when Tomallia dropped the little cubes into her outstretched palms. The small vampire shook them ferociously, sending them flying when they hit the table. "Well! Who's number eight?" She chirped. Mercer Frey lifted his hand indifferently. Babette giggled and clapped her hands with excitement. She skipped over to her victim's side and whispered something in his ear.

"That's cheating! You have to say it out loud!" Tomila cried. There were murmurs of agreement. But Babette and Mercer paid them no attention. Instead Mercer was looking at Babette as if he had just realized the adorable, dainty little girl could really be an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood. This, he realized, was the face of evil.

"Think of the gold, Mister Frey," Babette encouraged, "Two minutes. Hardly a long time at all, for that kind of money." Mercer sighed and stepped away from the table.

"Mercer! Going to enlighten us, mate?" Delvin called as the Guild Master brushed past him. Frey stopped when he reached Brynjolf. He pulled the Nord out of his chair and held him gruffly by the shoulders. Brynjolf looked as though he was going to say something, but before he could get the words out, Mercer cut him off with deep, passionate kiss.

Screams of laughter penetrated the room, but Mercer showed no signs of stopping. He wrapped his arms tightly around Brynjolf, so the man couldn't escape. Mercer took advantage of Brynjolf's shock so he could slip his tongue inside the other man's mouth. Brynjolf tried to break free, but Mercer's gripe was like a vice. The Nord's arms were pinned to his sides; his only defense was to swat angrily at Mercer's hips with his hands.

When Mercer could restrain Brynjolf no longer, he pushed the Nord away from him as fast as possible. The room was in pandemonium. Vex had actually fallen to the floor, unable to breathe through her mirth.

"Oh Mother-the laughter! It hurts!" Cicero wheezed.

"Devine's! I'm going to sleep with a whistle around my neck from now on!" Brynjolf shouted when the powers of speech had finally returned to him.

"I better get serious points for that." Mercer growled.

"I dunno," Delvin howled, "Bryn, did he earn it?" The room broke down once more. Mercer looked as though he was going to rip someone in two. Babette wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I suggest a sold eight points. He didn't last the whole two minutes, but…it was quite a performance." She managed before losing herself to giggles once again.

"I second that." Nazir raised his glass. "Anyone else?" Brynjolf pulled himself back into his chair and took a long drink from Astrid's tankard.

"Ten!" He shouted, slamming the empty mug down on the table. Even Mercer had to laugh.

"I'll take eight points. Highest score of the night." He snickered. "Oh- and I believe it's my turn."


	6. Chapter 6

Mercer shook the dice in his hands. _Anyone but Brynjolf_, he prayed. The dice hit the table. "Aha, seven! My lucky number! Who is it?"

"I'm not kissing you again, lad." Brynjolf slurred. Mercer gave Babette a dirty look.

"Tell you what. In light of…recent circumstances I'll go easy on you. See, these Skyrim winters are fine for all you Nords, but we Breton's need a little, ah, something extra."

"I'm not sleeping with you either."

"Don't flatter yourself, Bryn." He continued over the ensuing laughter, "All I want is for you to steal me a coat."

"That's it? I'll hardly get three points for that!"

"That is true…" Mercer pretended to consider something. "Well, Maven Black-Briar's got a handsome bearskin coat that she hardly ever wears. It'd be a shame to let such a beauty waste away in a closet all winter." Brynjolf grinned.

"Maven's bearskin coat? Bring in some good points, I suppose. Alright! You got yourself a deal."

...

The two guild mates excused themselves from the table. Mercer was grateful Brynjolf didn't press him for small talk as they made their way into the city. There weren't many pleasant directions a conversation could go after an incident like that.

"Let's hope she's home tonight. I'd hate to cause any more trouble for poor Healga." Brynjolf joked when they reached Black-Briar Manor.

"Nah, Maven would never be involved with Healga. She's too proud for that kind of debauchery. Though if you ask me, tight old bitch could use some." Brynjolf chuckled as he fumbled with the lock.

"Won't be a minute." And with that, he disappeared into the manor. Mercer banged his head against the doorframe. What a night.

With his ear still pressed against the doorframe, he mentally counted backwards from a hundred. Did Brynjolf really think he was going to get off so easily by just having to steal a bearskin coat? After what he, _Mercer_, had to do?

"Guards! Intruder! Thief in Blackbrair manor!" And with that, he disappeared into the darkness.

...

Brynjolf hobbled unsteady up the stairs of Black Bair Manor. Why did Maven have such wiggly stairs in her house? Surely she could afford better. He almost missed a step at the top of the staircase, causing him to fall forward. On an ordinary night, Brynjolf could handle his liquor and then some. Then again, on an ordinary night he didn't exchange passionate kisses with his guild master either.

So many bedrooms in this house! Not a problem. Just because he was drunk didn't mean he couldn't still be sneaky. As he swayed through the nearest doorway, his hip made painful contact with a nightstand.

"Ow!"

"What! What Happened?" Ingun BlackBrair muttered from a deep sleep.

"Your stupid table hit me!" Brynjolf shouted.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't let it happen again!" He warned her.

"Okay," she agreed, having already fallen back asleep. Brynjolf stumbled out of the room. Oops.

The next two rooms were empty of bearskin coats, and thankfully, people. But in the master bed room, Brynjolf was met with a shock.

Not only was Maven lying in bed wearing the bearskin coat and absolutely nothing else; her son Hemming was there too. This night just keeps getting weirder and weirder he thought, as he bent down as gently as he could to work the garment off her shoulders. He cursed his sluggish, drunk movements as he almost pulled a strand of Maven's hair. He had always scolded Delvin for going drinking on a job, and now here he was, drunk as a skunk trying to pull a coat off the most powerful woman in the Rift.

Brynjolf held his breath as he gingerly pulled her arm out of the large sleeve. Hemming' own arm had been draped across Mavens and now slid dangerously close to her face. Brynjolf had to act quickly (and even more carefully) before the change in positions awakened the pair. Hemming muttered in his sleep (Brynjolf's heart skipped a beat) and repositioned himself without waking. A few more gentle tugs and the coat was his! He sighed with relief.

"Stop right there! You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people! What have you to say in your defense?" With a loud, echoing crash two guards burst into the room.

"Fuck!" Brynjolf yelled. There was a window just above Maven's bed. His best bet was to make a run for it, and hope she had a balcony of some kind.

"What's going on here?" Maven roared as she leapt from the bed, unaware that she had been disrobed.

"My most humble apologies Lady Maven and Lord…Hemming?" One of the guard's had just realized who Maven had been sharing her bed with.

"Out! Out of my house, you fools." The guards hurried away, Brynjolf on their heels. "Not you. I'll deal with you myself." She grabbed the thief by the collar of his robe, and whipped him around to face her. Then she smacked him hard across the face.

"Enjoying yourself Bryn?" A snide voice called. Maven, Brynjolf and Hemming all turned towards the source of the noise. Mercer Frey himself was peached on the windowsill, surveying the scene before him with utmost amusement. "Looking lovely tonight, Maven. And hello Hemming. Fancy seeing you here." Mercer nodded smugly in Hemming's direction. The young man had been trying to discreetly cloth himself and exit the room for the last few minutes.

"I should have known." Maven growled.

"May want to cover yourself, Maven. Think of the example you're setting for your son."

"Shut up, Frey," but she hastily grabbed a sheet from the bed. Brynjolf made his move for the window, shoving the coat in Mercer's arms.

"Well Maven, thanks for the lovely evening. Think we'll be leaving now…"

"I'll be having a word with the Dark Brotherhood about this!"

"You know- Brynjolf and I were just having dinner with Astrid. We can tell her all about those guards who saw you and Hemming together if you like. In fact! We could tell lots of people…"

"There's no need for that-"

"I quite agree. We'll keep the Brotherhood – and the rest of Skryrim- out of this if you will."

"You're such a bastard, Mercer."

"My pleasure, Maven," and with a final smug laugh, he and Brynjolf dropped out of sight.

...

"How'd it go?" Tomila called to the two of them as they entered the flagon.

"Well- Brynjolf here managed to wake the whole house and alert the guards." Mercer shook his head. "And you call yourself a thief. Simple fishing job, man!"

"I'd like to see you do better." Brynjolf muttered over the subsequent snickers and jeers.

"5 points. You did get the coat after all." Mercer donned the garment to demonstrate.

"Shut up, Mercer." Brynjolf grumbled.

(A/N You know that weird line of dialogue where Hemming kinda implies he bones his mom? Yeahhh...)


End file.
